


3 Times Andy’s Neck Nearly Got Cut & 1 Time It Did

by zephyrprince



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Original Trilogy
Genre: Gen, Self-Insert
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-11-12
Updated: 2013-11-12
Packaged: 2018-01-01 06:42:46
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 3,947
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1041586
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/zephyrprince/pseuds/zephyrprince
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>I wrote this for a friend who got a pretty significant neck scar in the process of cancer treatment.  It was my contribution to an anthology of stories fictionalizing the scar's origin our friends put together for him.  I thought I would memorialize it here for my own personal archiving too since it is fanfiction-based.</p>
    </blockquote>





	1. Episode I--The Battle of Alderaan

**Author's Note:**

> I wrote this for a friend who got a pretty significant neck scar in the process of cancer treatment. It was my contribution to an anthology of stories fictionalizing the scar's origin our friends put together for him. I thought I would memorialize it here for my own personal archiving too since it is fanfiction-based.

It was a period of civil war. Rebel spaceships striking from a hidden base had won their first victory against the evil Galactic Empire. Though the plans for the Empire’s ultimate weapon, the Death Star, were stolen by a rebel operative, the vast majority of the dissident leadership remained clueless about the advanced stage of completion the project had reached. 

That is. . . They had been clueless. . . 

“Waffle Unit, request permission to disengage safeties and prep for takeoff.”

Andypandy Roo Scray Scray from the formerly-royal house of Alderaan was the third cousin twice removed of Galactic Senator Bail Prestor Organa. In the years since the displacement of the planet’s blood sovereigns, some strands of the waning dynasties had embraced the changes that had ushered in a new era of prosperity and equality on the oceanic planet, and some. . . well, some were holding onto to every shred of power they could. . . and often paying the high price of their dignity. The Scray Scrays were in the latter party. But Andypandy had escaped all that, rebelling in his early teenage years to run away and join a radical communalist colony on one of the planet’s many equatorial archipelagos. Since then, he’d championed causes of justice across the galaxy, even going so far as to draft and introduce legislation for the Galactic Republic that would have laid the ground work for universal healthcare across the stars. 

“Permission granted, sir,” came the reply from the voice-enhanced bot. Andypandy momentarily threw her some side eye. He had never approved of the little cylindrical R2 droid calling him sir. Waffle Unit was his constant companion, his right hand droid, and among other things ensured that he got safely to wherever his advocacy took him by flying the meager personal shuttle they’d be taking that day. 

“We are prepared for liftoff in 5. . . 4. . . 3. . . 2. . .”

Suddenly, before Waffle Unit was able to complete her countdown, the air was filled with the violent roar of alarms, followed soon after by the flashing of bright red and orange lights. 

“What’s happening, Waffles?” Andypandy was on his feet but there was nothing to see from the cockpit of the shuttle. 

“It appears to be an emergency.”

Even in his state of heightened urgency, Andy took a moment to arrange his face into a steely expression and with deliberate slowness, roll his eyes at the droid’s tendency to state the obvious.

“That’s all I know, sir. The official communications channels are simply reporting that all flights are grounded except military deployments.”

“Military?”

“Wait, more is coming through. It seems a large ship of unknown alignment has emerged from hiding just outside Alderaan’s atmosphere. . . wait, not a ship.” The droid beeped and clicked in obvious alarm, “Not a ship. I’m getting the full figures on its size now. It seems to be some kind of space station.”

“What do you mean an unknown space station? A space station in hiding? That’s not possible, Waffles. And I told you to stop hacking into secure communication channels. I know they aren’t playing the spacecraft’s dimensions on the news. . .”

Waffle Unit did not respond to her master’s admonishment but instead fell silent, processing the information she was able to gather across the radio spectrum. 

“Sir, I believe it is time that we flew the coop.” 

The idiom sounded strange in the tinny voice of a robot and so did its meaning.

“Waffles, why would we do that?” 

But even as he asked, the droid began overriding the shuttle bay’s safety protocols.

“Waffle Unit,” Andypandy became suddenly stern but alarm could also be detected in the faint cracking of his voice. “I order you to stand down. The official guidance was to remain grounded and that’s what we’re going to do.”

The dome of the R2 unit swiveled to face him now.

“That’s right, Waffles, we’re not going anywhere, now open the shuttle doors. I’m going to go see what I can learn about. . .”

“I’m sorry, sir, but I can’t let you do that.”

~~~

The last thing Andypandy remembered before he woke up on the floor of the shuttle with a splitting headache the likes of which he had never before experienced, was seeing the robot’s small mechanical arm extend towards the crease of his neck and stun him with a short high energy burst of electricity. 

“Agh, my head.”

He rubbed his eyes, groggy.

“Waffles, what happened?”

No response came. 

“Waffles?”

He looked up. His vision was still blurry but he could make out his robot companion plugged into her cockpit. She was unmoving and her circuits were unlit. 

Behind her he could just barely make out what appeared to be an asteroid belt. 

In the moments that followed, wave after wave of sorrow and agony flew through the young man’s every cell. The realization that he’d lost his home planet; the realization that he’d lost his best friend; the realization that he’d lost everything. 

Waffles may have injured him but she’d done it for his own good. She’d saved him and he would spend the next several years avenging his death. 

She’d shocked his neck, but she had not cut it. That would come later.


	2. Episode II--The Battle of Yavin

Andypandy Roo Scray Scray’s cultural background was about as distant from military service as it could possibly be. Hell, he’d never even flown his own car, let alone a fighter ship. So it was with some trepidation that the young man had joined the rebel alliance and volunteered for the suicide mission that would later come to be called “The Battle of Yavin.” 

But he knew by now what the Empire’s super weapon was and what it was capable of. The Death Star had destroyed his home planet and, in the process, wiped the memory of his best friend, Waffles, leaving her an empty shell of metal where once had been a living, breathing . . . well. . . beeping thing. That’s why he’d joined up with this rag tag bunch of would-be heroes in the first place so when they’d made the ask for volunteers to attack the super mega ultra platinum destroyer, he readily threw his hat in the ring. 

But. . . now that he was out here with the rest of Rogue Squadron, the queasiness in his stomach made him feel a little less certain about that decision. . . 

“Purple Squadron, this is Purple Leader. Check in.” Andypandy heard the voice of JCHQ, his squad captain, over the speaker in his cockpit. 

“Purple One.”

“Purple One check,” came the voice of his comrade, Kelsey. 

“Purple Two.”

“Purple Two check.” Foxy.

“Purple Three.”

“Purple Three check.” Sarai. His teammates put on a good façade but with each name, Andy could hear his heartbeat louder and louder in his inner ear. 

“Purple Four.”

“Purple Four is ready to ROAR.” Wesquire. In his characteristic deadpan. 

“Thank you, Purple Four. Purple Five.” 

“Purple Five check.” Kellan. 

“Purple Six.” 

“Purple Six check.” E’fitz rounded out the roster with a fierce femme whoop, but it did little to assuage Andypandy’s anxiety. 

In addition to his teammates, the final figure Andypandy found himself painfully aware of was the oversized R2 unit strapped onto the cockpit of the ship. His call sign was R2 F364, but his former owner called him Flapjack. Through no fault of his own, Flapjack had failed to capture Andy’s heart in the last few weeks of training for the mission. It was tough to work with anyone in the wake of Wafflebot’s death, and it didn’t help that Flapjack really wasn’t designed for the work they were doing together. Of course, one might think that having originally been built as a nursing robot might be alluring to someone who had spent their career in health policy, but it just wasn’t working out, and as a result, every little thing about him became irritating. For example, he was too bulky, too wide—so much so that he couldn’t fit snugly into the cockpit designed for the slimmer, newer, sleeker R2 droids. And, at base, the real problem persisted: he wasn’t Waffles. 

“Alright team, formation zeta.”

The team split from the rest of Rogue Squadron in order to create cover for those who would be making the trench run based on the station’s weak point identified in the stolen blueprints. 

Suddenly, out of nowhere, Imperial forces were right on the squad. 

“Evasive maneuvers, team. This is what we trained for,” JCHQ’s voice came calm over the speaker, but Andypandy’s sense of anxiety had leapt into full grown panic. 

~~~

“Andypandy, sir. . . . Sir. Andypandy Roo Scray Scray of the formerly royal house of Alderaan. Andy, sir. Sir?”

“WHAT?”

Andy hadn’t meant to snap at the little droid. . . err, the big droid, he realized as he looked at the squeaking little piece of scrap. 

Wait. . . he looked around and realized where he was again. 

“What happened, Flapjack?”

“That is precisely what I’ve been trying to tell you, sir.”

“What do you mean?”

“As a nursing droid, I am not precisely designed to give prognoses in situations such as these, but according to my analysis, you experienced something between a psychotic break and. . . how should I say: a rage black out.”

“Excuse me?” Andy’s eyes were blurry again suddenly.

“You weren’t responding to external stimuli including JCHQ’s orders. . .”

“What?”

“You weren’t responding to external stimuli including JCHQ’s orders.”

“That was rhetorical. Goddess, you droids. . .”

“Well, on the bright side, sir: you destroyed over 65 Imperial TIE fighters.”

“What?”

“Twin Ion Engine Fighters, sir, manufactured by Sienar Fleet Systems. Among them, admittedly, were two TIE interceptors and one TIE bomber. . .”

“I know what TIE Fighters are, Flapjack.”

“Yes, sir, well you destroyed a lot of them.”

The young man was beginning to feel a little uneasy about this pattern of falling unconscious during some of the most critical moments of his life. It was almost as if his story were being written by a great author in the sky who just couldn’t muster the details for some of these climactic episodes. . . 

“Yehaaaa,” E’fitz’s signature cry came over the radio. He looked to the right of his display window to catch sight of her craft and immediately saw what she had obviously missed – an Imperial fighter right in her blindspot. 

“Purple Six, you’ve got an enemy craft right on your tush!”

“Wha--?” Before his teammate could even respond, impulse canons fired, disabling E’fitz’s engines. The adversarial ship’s momentum carried it zooming past her and as it pulled around to return for a second volley, another shot came right for Andy and Flapjack.

“Critical hit, sir.”

“What? Damage report!?” Andy had evidently spent so much of the battle in a dramatically divergent headspace that he wasn’t at all prepared for actual combat. 

“Weapons are completely offline, sir”

“What?”

“Weapons are completely. . .”

“SHUT UP.”

“Yes sir.”

“I’m sorry, I just. . . I don’t know. . .”

Andy looked out his window, desperately seeking to assess the situation. He could see the Imperial ship heading straight for E’fitz. Its weapons were undoubtedly charging, and. . . and. . . E’fitz was preparing for the inevitable.

“Tell my cousins I love ‘em boys. It’s all for the revolution,” came her voice broadcast to the entire squadron. 

“No!” He only hesitated for a moment. “Ramming speed, Flapjack.”

The bot beeped, but did as requested.

“Sir, strap into your emergency safety belts. No, wait. . . “

The machine whirred and buzzed, computing in its brain-like processor. Andy waited patiently, all fear draining out of him as accepted what he was trying to do. 

“Ok. Re-strap the emergency belts in the following pattern.” Images flickered in front of his eyes. “I’m going to activate the airbags.”

“Now, in order to override emergency self-preservation controls, let’s put it on full manual, Flapjack.” 

“Already on it. I’ll calculate the ideal angle of impact and give you the word.”

“Perfect.”

“Forward at speed level seven. . . Now increase to eight.”

Out the left side of periphery, Andypandy could see beyond the inflated air bags that E’f was also slowly moving on manual propulsion but his droid was obviously compensating for all variables.

“Now drop down to zero, sir.”

Everything stopped.

And then exploded. 

Andy’s body was jostled all over the chamber, scratching every part of him before the emergency ejection activated. 

“Yehaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaa. Good move, Panda.” E’fitz had ejected as well and energy tethers were, as they spoke, linking the two humans and their two R2 droids. 

Andy’s neck was bleeding. He smiled. 

The new team of Andypandy and Flapjack had saved their friend and saved the day. And following the initial encounter, Purple Squad was able to continue defending the trench runners right up until their great moment of success. In the process Andy had injured himself, but he’d become a hero. 

When he accepted the Rebellion Medal of Honor for both his bravery as well as his devotion to human health, Andy’s neck was scraped up but it was not cut. That would come later.


	3. Episode III--The Battle of Hoth

It was a dark time for the Rebellion. Although the Death Star had been destroyed, Imperial troops had also driven the Rebel forces from their hidden base and pursued them across the galaxy.

Evading the dreaded Imperial Starfleet, a group of freedom fighters led by Luke Skywalker established a new secret base on the remote ice world of Hoth.

In contrast to the morale of the broader movement, Andypandy Roo Scray Scray was in high spirits. Following his success in the Battle of Yavin, Andy’s heart, previously as cold as Hoth, had melted for the stout little droid known as Flapjack. Their work together to destroy the Death Star had left him feeling a sense of calm. To some extent he had achieved the vengeance he sought on behalf of his family, his world, and his best friend, and in the process of so doing, had created more room in his heart for a new little mechanical buddy. 

Potentially even room for two. 

“So by your calculations, Flapjack, there will be an electrical storm that potentially meets our requirements at Latitude 49o North, Longitude 230o East tomorrow morning?”

“That’s right, sir. I will calculate the optimum placement now to maximize the possibility of conducting the electricity we need. We should leave the reception system up for a minimum of two hours. What is the status of our request to leave base?”

Andy ignored the question, “I’ll finish the preparations on the temporary laboratory shelter,” Andypandy said.

“Sir. . .”

Andy didn’t look back but continued futzing with the honeycombed material in one corner of the chamber they occupied along with another set of medical officials and accompanying droids. 

“Sir. . .”

“Yes, SIR?” Andy said in mock deference to his stuttering companion. “What is it, Flappy?”

The voice-enhanced droid continued its pause, the lens in its small narrow eye focusing and unfocusing with the little whir Andypandy knew indicated deep thought. . . or complex computations anyhow. 

“Sir, I do believe my weather prediction was a bit off.”

“A bit? What’re you saying, Flapjack?”

“I’m saying. . . Sir, we need to leave now.”

“Now, Flappy. But it’s. . .”

“Now, sir.”

Once convinced, the pair was off and running. They threw everything they’d taken such nuanced care in preparing over the past two months into the speedercraft with quite a bit less caution. 

“Oh careful with that, Flappy,” Andy said as Flapjack flung a rather delicate lightning rod into the bed of the speeder. 

“Sir, that absolutely must be handled with utmost. . .” Andy dropped a box of glassware onto the passenger seat. “Ok.”

As they finally loaded their own bodies into the cab, their reverie was interrupted with a bit of unwelcome news. Sirens filled the boy’s ears, sirens he somehow – in some far recess of his brain – had known were coming.

“I mean, really? Again?” 

But the patterns of his life were starting to at least feel surmountable. This time he was ready.

“Flapjack, begin overrides for emergency protocols and get us out of here.”

“Yes, sir.”

The doors opened and the reason for the alarms became immediately clear. In front of them raged a spectacular battle. There were 74-Z speeder bikes, snow troopers, MTV-7 Multi-Terrain Vehicles, and then there were the walkers. AT-PT Walkers, AT-ST Walkers, and, of course, the dreaded ATAT walkers faced off against the surprised rebel forces. 

But the boy and his droid didn’t have long to gawk. Andy pushed the controls and Flapjack calibrated the engines, propelling the speedster into the fray.

They slid all around the battlefield in heavily choreographed motion, designed to deal with the ever changing geography of the fight and avoid as much of the melee as possible. Before they could escape, they even wove in and out of the legs of one of the ATATs. But eventually they did male their way out to the exposed arctic cliff that Flapjack had identified as ideal. 

Andy exhaled hard. 

“Congratulations, sir.”

“Don’t congratulate me yet, buddy.”

From their current vantage point, the duo could see the battle from a whole new perspective. It comforted them to know that even in their absence, the Rebellion would likely be okay. They saw the first of the ATATs fall, legs wrapped in industrial wire. 

That was all the inspiration he needed. For the second time this morning, Andy and his little metal friend kicked into high gear, setting up the makeshift station they’d thrown together after months of prep.

As the instruments and tools were arranged around them, the pitch of the preparations continued to build . . . until. . .

“This is it, Flapjack.”

“Please: you do the honors, sir.”

Andy smiled. The honorific salutation had almost become a joke at this point. Almost. 

“Let’s do it together, Flappy.”

If an R2 droid could smile. . . 

Flapjack extended his robotic arm and together they took ahold of the drape in the center of the room. 

They pulled. 

Andy gasped. 

He couldn’t help but feel moved by what lay beneath – even if he had known ahead of time – for there before him lay what remained of his best friend. Wafflebot.

“Don’t slow down now, sir. The storm is beginning.”

What followed was a blur of minute adjustments, readings, and skipped heartbeats. But when the lightning struck, they were ready. 

Andy laughed out loud, madly. It was almost a cackle that sizzled into a whimper, as a single silver tear crept down his ruddy cheek. 

“Power flow is at maximum. The unique ion signature of the cold lightning of Hoth is, as we suspected, repolarizing the earth metals in R2 E9’s core processor.”

Their reverie was broken, however, when an electric hissing sound filled the room from behind them.

“Fuck!”

“Sir, the secondary conductor is essential. If we can’t get that back online immediately, we’re going to lose her.“

“No we’re not.”

“How can we close the circuit? What do we have?” The little droid’s head dome swiveled around surveying the chamber. “What do we have that can conduct the electricity and close the loop?”  
“Me.” 

Andy had grabbed both ends of the broken line and pulled off his gloves.

“Sir. . .”

But before the droid could stop him, Andy had grasped both ends with his bare hands. He felt the power surge through him. . . and then blacked out. 

~~~

“Sir,” a tinny female voice emanated through his empty consciousness. Andy began to blink.

And then the recognition came.

“Waffles? Waffles!”

He couldn’t move. He couldn’t lift his head, but he could see her. At least he could until the bawling started. It started and it didn’t stop. Not for a long hour, and then on and off for many hours to come. 

His neck, nay his entire body, had suffered light nerve damage from the pricks of the lightning storm. But he had his best companion back. Back from the dead. 

He’d lost feeling in his neck but it was not cut. That would come later.


	4. Chapter 4

Unbeknownst to Andypandy and the Rebellion, the Galactic Empire had secretly begun construction on a new armored space station even more powerful than the first dreaded Death Star.

When completed, this ultimate weapon would spell certain doom for the small band of rebels struggling to restore freedom to the galaxy. . .

However, with his full team reunited, Andy’s sense of personal and spiritual power was at an all-time climactic level. This new sense of self had propelled him up through the ranks of the Rebellion such that, when he finally heard about their enemies’ ongoing project to revive the weapon that had destroyed his homeworld, Andypandy Roo Scray Scray took the news in stride and took action. 

The double sliding doors expanded out from one another, revealing the halls the trio had sought. Andypandy walked as if in slow motion, deep blue cape billowing behind him adorned by the crest of Alliance to Restore the Republic emblazoned in the royal aqua color of Alderaan. He was flanked by his constant companions, the slim and tall Wafflebot 2.0 and the short stout Flapjack. All three of them knew that this could be their final adventure, but all three also held to their hearts the knowledge that it could be the last episode of the entire rebellion. 

And although there had been other plans, drafts and drafts of intentions, their role came down to a single objective – the only thing that was still possible in this moment – delay the progress of a single individual as he moved towards fate. 

The heavy inhale and exhale audible around the next corner let them know their query was close. 

“Darth Vader.” 

Exhale.

Inhale.

Exhale.

Silence.

Andy knew the black armored figure would be scanning him. He’d be sensing the midi-chlorians in his blood. He’d never been tested, even when he’d had the chance. But he knew they were there. And he knew they’d be enough of a distraction for what he needed. 

“Do you know what I’ve spent my entire life fighting for?”

Silence. The figure turned, and Andy gulped, a momentary hiccup in his otherwise deeply resigned calm.

“No. Of course you don’t. But let me tell you. I’ve spent my life fighting for the liberation of all people. In my youth, I fought for healthcare so that we may all have the physical and emotional foundation to pursue the things that will bring us happiness and fulfillment and express the depths of our individuality. And it’s the same now. I have fought alongside the Rebellion because you and your people have sought to apportion life chances in ways that leave the vast majority of people, including your own children without such an opportunity.”

At the mention of his twin daughter and son, Andy detected a twitch somewhere beneath the mask.

Exhale.

Inhale.

Exhale.

“You must know you will not win. You will not. . .”

The pain bloomed from his neck as the red lightsaber sliced the skin open and, once again, the boy lost consciousness. 

~~~

When he woke, he could see his two droid loved ones. The clicked and beeped and told him of the end of the Death Star II, the demise of the emperor, and the fulfillment of their longtime collective dreams. When he moved, he could feel the ice treatment Flapjack had administered on the blow he’d taken to the neck. 

His neck had been cut but he had not died. He had not died and for that he was grateful for it meant he faced years ahead of him. Years with Flapjack and Waffles, years with his Purple Squad friends, years of the fight for health justice and the reestablishment of the Galactic Republic. 

The air above him was filled with celebratory fireworks and the wind in his ear brought the whoops and hollers of the Ewoks thanking the universe for everything that had transpired. 

He had years and years. And for that he was profoundly grateful. 

_Fin._


End file.
